


In the seat of the triumph

by birbteef



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Motorcycles, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-01
Updated: 2019-08-01
Packaged: 2020-07-28 19:07:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20069062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/birbteef/pseuds/birbteef
Summary: Crowley, after a harrowing realization that the Bentley actually isn't as immortal as he is, gets a motorcycle.





	In the seat of the triumph

**Author's Note:**

> Of course the transformers fan is gonna write fanfic about a motorcycle, who do you think I am? I love that Bentley. I love it.

The Bentley was a good car. Past tense is evoked only for the reason that Crowley could not shake the feeling of utter loss he had felt when it burned up during the apocalypse. Of course it was fine now, happy to be taken for a 90 mile an hour spin around the block at the demon's discretion.

Crowley, however, had come to realize that maybe he was taking the wonderful car for granted. It wasn't often that he had to face the facts of his own abilities as a supernatural entity. For all the devotion and effort he put into the car, it had still technically exploded on him. Got him where he needed to be though, the damn thing. 

What he was thinking of was a retirement of sorts. He'd still own the car, and still drive it around as he pleased, but he needed something more...contemporary. 

Aziraphale was very fond of that idea, suggesting he "get a Subaru" as if Crowley would be caught dead in a hatchback. No, the angel would not be a help in this matter. As far as Crowley's personal belongings went, it was one of the few aspects of his life he actually didn't much want Aziraphale's opinion on. 

Which is why he pulled up to the bookshop on a Triumph Bonneville. 

Half of it was to spite Aziraphale's cautious nature and the other half was just the honest fun of the thing. 

"You can't be serious?" Was all the angel asked as Crowley tossed him a glossy black helmet. 

"Course I am." Crowley grinned back at him. "It'll be easier to get between cars this way. I'll be unstoppable."

Aziraphale stared at the black beast beneath Crowley's legs. "You could do that in the Bentley. You're a demon, you can do anything you want in traffic, you're unstoppable anyway."

Crowley's glasses blocked the actual visibility of seeing him roll his eyes but Aziraphale knew it was happening. "Would you just put the helmet on?"

"I-" Aziraphale finally broke his gaze from the motorcycle to look down at the helmet. "It'll muss my hair."

"Fix it when we get there. You can either come with me or not. The show starts in half an hour, and I don't even really want to see it, I'm just going because you want to. So you better get on this bike or were not going." Crowley stated as if that was the final word on the matter.

Aziraphale felt as though he could conjure up many many more words for how he felt about this but he wasn't sure the argument was actually worth it. They were both well aware that if he threw enough of a fit about the bike that magically it would change places with the Bentley as if nothing had happened. Part of his was curious though and he slipped the helmet on his head, cautiously (ungracefully) slung his leg over the back end of the bike, and scooted right up behind the demon. 

"There we are! Lift your legs and hold on, angel." Crowley revved the engine before taking off at a leisurely pace. He knew if he made it actually scary for Aziraphale right out of the gate he would never get on the bike again. 

The ride itself wasn't terrible but Aziraphale still clung to Crowley's midsection much more tightly than he anticipated. What he had expected to be a slightly sexy and cool scenario turned out to be him trying his best to obey traffic laws and drive like normal with that vice grip around his gut. Anytime anything even remotely dangerous happened those sharp little fingernails would dig in and Crowley knew better than to keep going. Honestly he felt like he played himself with this one, Aziraphale didn't even like riding in the car of course he'd hate the bike. 

Aziraphale practically leapt off of the thing when they finally got parked, doing some weird jitter as if he'd gotten insects in his clothing and ripping the helmet from his head. Crowley flashed him a smile and Aziraphale only glared daggers right through it. "How's my hair?"

Honestly Crowley thought his hair looked fine. "Terrible. Awful. You've never looked worse." He grinned and pulled his own helmet off. 

Aziraphale was squinting at his reflection in the shiny finish of his helmet before deciding he guessed he looked fine. "I don't much care for this." 

"Nah, it's fun." Crowley slid his leg off the bike and held out his arm for Aziraphale to take. He miracled away their helmets and sighed, "give it another go. After the show I'll take you on a little trip, how about that?" 

"What kind of trip?" Aziraphale took his arm to be led into the theater. "It'll be dark by the time we get out."

Crowley just shrugged. "I'll figure something out."

-o-0-o-

Figure something out he did. While the show itself was as boring and unsalacious as he'd expected, it gave him time to think about what he needed to do. 

The act of riding the bike was the fun part. The destination was all well and good but he needed to find someway to show Aziraphale that the bike itself was worth the trouble. 

When it was all over and Aziraphale was done hollering at the actors for their job well done they went back to the lot. Crowley brought out their helmets as he had before, this time taking a little more care for Aziraphale's and letting it know it should probably be a matte cream color, not a glossy black. He'd be damned if he suggested the straps be baby blue but if the helmet figured that out on its own accord then he wasn't going to stop it. 

Aziraphale groaned as they approached the bike again. "I can call us a taxi." 

"And just leave my bike here? Nonsense. Also kids these days are getting little phone taxis called Ubers, so real taxis are more ruthless than ever you know. Can't say you'll be wanting that." He stretched one long leg over the bike and rolled his hips at it in a not-entirely-on-purpose suggestive hump. "Just get on the bike." 

"If you get us discorporated I'll never forgive you." Aziraphale humphed and affixed his helmet. His sidle onto the bike was a little less graceful than Crowleys, but more graceful than his first time had been. He wrapped his arms around Crowley's middle and gave a great deflated and quite unnecessary sigh as the demon started up the bike. 

The trip out of London was actually not too bad. Traffic was down with the evening and eventually they were past the sprawling tendrils of the city and all the subsequent suburbs and found themselves in a rolling countryside. Crowley was happy enough just to drive, Aziraphale's warm presence wrapped around him at his back and a thrum of the beast between his legs. It was heady in a way the Bentley just wasn't. If Aziraphale truly hated this then he'd just be sure to pick up the angel in the old car from then on, but there was no way he was going to give up the bike.

The gently rolling countryside stretched around them in a comfortable loneliness. There was no one else on the road to contend with. Either by fate or minor miracle everyone found themselves wanting to take the back roads today. It was just them, puttering along the road away from the city. Crowley knew he'd have to turn back at some point but he wanted this to last forever. 

Then, from behind, Aziraphale started to move. His hands slowly crept up crowley's front to splay more over his chest than his waist. A soft brush of something played against the back of Crowley's neck before a firm pressure splayed against him. He realized moments after that Aziraphale had rested his cheek on him, content enough to just hold him and stare at the passing pastures and hills. 

Perhaps he didn't hate it as much as he let on. 

One thing about the motorcycle he wasn't sure was a good or bad thing was that he couldn't really talk to Aziraphale while it was running. Sure they could yell at one another but the angel hated that and Crowley grew tired quickly from having to breathe in so much air to make his voice loud. 

He knew enough about Aziraphale to tell when he was comfortable though. He was practically curled around him like a sleeping cat. Those wonderful pristine hands were pressed gently to his chest so he could be held from behind. He could feel the small puffs of hot air from where Aziraphale was breathing against him. Truly, a form of heaven. 

He stopped at a little bypass area and ushered Aziraphale off to stretch his legs. "We ought to be turning around soon, get your wiggles out now."

The angel slid off the bike and stretched as asked of him, Crowley doing much the same. "I may take back what I felt before." Aziraphale finally piped up. He looked up to the clear dark sky and sighed. "For a trip like this, the motorbike is just fine."

Crowley raised his eyebrows, genuinely not expecting that. "You think so?"

"It's rather intimate, yes. I don't think I'll like riding in the city, far too many other cars and pedestrians. But...this is nice. I like this." 

Crowley found himself wishing he'd taken up the offer to move into a little rural cottage with the angel. Maybe that could go back on the agenda, if it meant getting Aziraphale on his back more often. "I like it too. There's a reason I bought the thing after all," He grinned. "Let's head back."


End file.
